


Devotion

by Naranek



Category: Myst Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Other, Time Travel Fix-It, transphobic violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naranek/pseuds/Naranek
Summary: A modern Stranger stumbles upon a book after escaping a transphobic home.  What he finds could change the course of the future - and the course of a family's love.





	1. When the Rains Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kit Chanterell (doctorprilicla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorprilicla/gifts), [dreabean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/gifts).



> One day, about ten years ago, I published a story on FFnet called "Devokan Tsahno." It was my fix-it fic that I desperately needed at the time, about love and found family. Now, ten years on, my writing has improved, and I'm back to rewrite the story on my terms. Found family means different things for me now, as a queer trans femme of color, and I want to bring that experience to the Myst universe.
> 
> This isn't DT as it was. This is DT as I needed it to be and as I wanted to express it. New title, new story.
> 
> Let's begin. Let's rewrite the ending.

The buzzing of the clippers was the only sound in the dark house.  The clock in the bathroom read 11:11pm.  A wish on bated breath crossed the lips of the teen as the last of his long hair fell to the ground, raven black even in the faint glow of the outlet nightlight.  He flicked off the clippers as he looked up to the mirror, brown eyes meeting brown.  His hands ran around his head, shorn down as much as he could without being completely bald.  It was smooth and soft under his fingertips.  Face still feminine, but at least not framed by the dark hair that he hated so much.  He ran his hand over the his cheeks.  His ruddy brown skin wasn't peppered with hair like he'd wanted.  He looked to the rest of his body.  His clothing, meant to hide his curves, was stolen from his older brother - baggy cargo pants and a plain tank top stretched tight over a binder gifted to him by a friend.  His parents didn't know he had the binder, or the clothes, or the sturdy work boots taken from his dad's closet.  No one in the house did.

How could he tell them?  His dad, a preacher, his mom, the preacher's wife.  His brother, home from college for the summer, an engineering student with a bright future.  Would they even understand?  No, of course not.  He'd been dragged to the church all his life.  "Homos" were a sin.  Transgender people, never talked about, but he was sure his father lumped all the "queers" in together.  He sighed, leaning on the counter.  Different always scared them.  The news sent them fleeing back to the pulpit.  And him?  There was no place for him.  Sixteen years old, a golden child on the outside, with perfect grades, AP classes, and a pick of colleges already lining up to accept him... her.  They wanted  _her_.  Not him.  They wanted Cecilia Gonzales, the honors girl, not Cecil Gonzales, the trans boy who would trade his grades to escape his life.

Cecil looked to the backpack on the floor next to him.  He had plans, of course.  Tonight, he would leave.  No note.  No goodbyes.  Just the road and the night sky.  He had very few possession.  A knife, also stolen, to protect him from wildlife and highway creeps.  A few journals.  As many pens as he could cram into the side pocket.  Two water bottles with built in filters.  Cash he'd saved up.  Snacks.  The town wasn't that far away, he figured maybe a day on foot, and he'd be fine.  He knew the road, he'd driven it.

The clock hit midnight.  It was time.  Surely everyone would be asleep.  Cecil bent to pick up the backpack just as the light in the hallway flicked on.  His head jerked up and he froze.  It was his father in the doorway, his face red from anger.

_No no no, please Dios no..._

"Cecilia!  What have you done!" his dad boomed.  It wasn't a question.  It was a threat.  Cecil grabbed his backpack as a shield, backing against the wall.

"Papá, please..."

"No 'please'!"

Cecil found himself yanked up by the back of his shirt and thrown bodily out of the room.  The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the wall.  Dazed for a second, he watched his father advance, face purple, mouth curled in a snarl.  Cecil stumbled to his feet and tried to get to the stairs, but his father caught him first.  It was the head bash into the wall that started it, then a punch to the ribs.  The blows came, and all Cecil could do was crumple to the ground and protect his face with his bag.

"Papá, no!  NO!" he screamed, trying desperately to get away.  At one point, his flailing legs hit his father in the knees, and he stumbled back.  This was his chance.  Cecil picked up his backpack and half bolted, half stumbled down the stairs.  It was a miracle that he made it without falling.  As he heard his father cursing and bumping after him, he flung open the front door and sped into the night.  All thoughts of the road, following it, getting to the town bus station, abandoned.  Now it was about survival.  The night was dark, no moon to be seen, and clouds blanketed the stars.  Cecil tripped over rocks, scrubs, anything in his way.  A few times he hit the dirt, but pushed himself up again and kept going, panting at the pain from his body, blood in his face from his head injury.  The pain was making him woozy, but he had to keep going.

 

Eventually Cecil slowed to a walk out of exhaustion.  Looking around, he did not see his family's house.  Nor did he see a road.  All that he could see was an endless expanse of desert.  He was alone in the New Mexican wilderness.  Ahead of him and a bit to the left, he saw a black shape rising out of the ground - a hill of some sort.  Maybe if he climbed it, he could get his bearings.  But it was a ways away, and his side throbbed.  He stopped to sit on a rock.  Looking around, seeing no one, he stripped down to his binder.  Cecil knew keeping bound was going to make his ribs heal in a weird way, something that could not be corrected in some cases.   He gripped the edge of the binder and paused for a second.  It felt like one more betrayal from his dad.  With a sigh, he gingerly wiggled out of the restraining fabric, wincing as raising his left arm pulled on his injured and heavily bruised side.  Cecil pulled his tank top back on, as well as an oversized hoodie from his backpack.  It was creeping close to 1:30, judging by his phone, and the cold was definitely setting in now that he'd stopped running.

Teeth chattering, Cecil stood and began his trek to the hill.  He didn't dare turn on a light, as on the flat land it could be seen by someone looking for him, but he moved more slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark.  His phone beeped 2am.

 

As he arrived at the hill, in the pre-dawn, he was surprised to find it blackened.  It wasn't just a hill - it was a volcano at some point.  Cecil looked around at the landscape and saw nothing similar, as if it had been placed there artificially.   The ground here, too, saw black rocks, white rocks, and sand.  He smelled... green?  Grass and water, almost?  He couldn't find where it was coming from.  There wasn't a river, or trees.  Cecil slung his pack over his shoulder and began to investigate.  It wasn't a bad place, but it was definitely further from civilization than he wanted to be.  He still couldn't see a road, or houses, or people.  He hadn't crossed a fence or other artificial border, so he didn't know if the land was owned by anyone.  No footprints, everything seemed new.

It was in this walking that Cecil almost stumbled into the crevasse.  Rocks slid out from beneath his feet as he windmilled his arms, eventually falling backwards on his rear, thankfully saving him from tumbling down.  After spending a moment catching his breath, Cecil scooted over to the edge to see what he inadvertently found.  Here was the source of the grass and water.  About 20 feet down was a stream, a pool, grass, flowers... and caves.  Pots.  It was inhabited!  Or at least, it was at one point.  Layers of fine dirt covered what he could see, and there were no footprints here either.  Across the crevasse from him was a ladder that led down.  Cecil weighed his options for a moment before a  _boom!_ thudded on the horizon. Cecil wrenched his head up.  In the distance, he could see dark clouds forming.  Out here on the plains, there was nothing but the hill taller than him.  However dangerous that rickety ladder was, he didn't have much of a choice.

He ran to the other side of the crack in the earth and grabbed the ladder.  Cecil took a breath and began to climb down as fast as he dared.  For something so old, it held fast.  He began to smell the static in the air.  As he hit the bottom of the ladder, he took a moment to survey his surroundings.  There were a lot of old things, probably had been here a while.  Something stood out, though - in the grass, near the water, a book.  A book?  Here?  It, too, was covered in dust.  The rain began to patter down.  He had to make a decision, before the storm hit.  Cecil jogged over, grabbed the book, and sprinted for one of the caves(?) just as the torrent from the sky unleashed.  Cecil panted as he sunk to the floor.  He could have been dead out there.

Looking around, Cecil found the cave had more in it than he'd realized.  Paper, blank and scattered.  Paintings on the wall that looked like they were made by a child.  And a bed, adult sized.  Even though it was dusty, Cecil collapsed into it.  It wasn't the most comfortable, but he was exhausted.  He hadn't even bothered to take off his backpack.  He'd been awake since before school yesterday.  He checked his phone.  6:34am.  Friday, August 14th.  He set his phone on the floor.  He didn't want it to run out of charge.  Not like he had signal anyway.  Cecil let his arm dangle off the bed.  His hand brushed something.  It was the book he'd rescued.

The book.  Cecil picked it up and dusted off the cover.  On the front, in print, merely read "MYST" in capital letters.  Other than the dust, it looked brand new.  How often did this area get rain anyway?  It should have been ruined ages ago.  Opening to the first page, Cecil was stunned to see a moving picture.  In a book, that would be difficult.  He opened the next page, expecting to find electronics in a cut out inside.  But no.  Inside was a strange script.  What was it?  It wasn't in the typical English alphabet, and it didn't look like Arabic or Hebrew, but it was similarly beautiful and flowing.  More importantly:  No electronics.  No wires.  Cecil flipped back to the front image.  It showed an island.  Small, but it had a few buildings.  Trees.  A tower, an observatory.  It was weird, but he felt drawn to the island.  He was compelled to touch the image.

As his fingers brushed over the picture, Cecil felt a pulling sensation, as if he was dropping down a roller coaster, and he felt similarly ill.  He felt and saw the world dissolve around him, and the last thing he heard as he blacked out was his phone's alarm going off, reminding him to wake up for school.


	2. I Am Cecil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil encounters some of the family, and faces the possibility of a life lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy so. Life got interesting real fast for me since the last chapter. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and was told my spine would eventually fuse, so that's... fun. Updates might be sporadic because of how much it's affecting my hands. I am, however, attempting to write this fic for NaNoWriMo, so we'll see where that takes us.

_"Atrus, Atrus!  Come help, quickly, she's bleeding..."_

The first sensation Cecil felt was pain.  His entire body ached, almost like the time he was hit by a car.  His head throbbed.  His face especially, and his ribs.  The dizziness came next.  Nausea, too.  For a few minutes he lay in his pain, attempting to not throw up from the intensity.  Eventually, he got it together enough to open his eyes.

The room was dim, lit only by an oil lamp next to the bed.  It flickered and illuminated a wood-paneled room (the walls and ceiling anyway - he didn't want to actually move his head to check the floor).  The bed under him was harder than what he was used to, as were the pillows.  A light quilt lay over him, blues and greens melding into a gentle spiral.  He tried to take in as much as he could.  Wherever he was, someone had thought to take moderate care of him.

_Wherever he was..._ the panic began to set in as the haze of dizziness began to lift.  This certainly wasn't the rock caverns he last remembered himself being at.  Cecil began to attempt to lift himself into a sitting position, groaning as his body protested.  He needed to find out where he was.

"Easy, my dear, you've had quite a time of it."

Cecil yelped in surprise.  Sitting near the door, a woman sat, watching him with bemused interest.  She was old, very old, and thin.  Wrinkles dug into every corner of her face, curving gently as she smiled.  Her white hair seemed long, but the braid that circled her head was put up in a simple pin.  Her shirt and skirt were more old fashioned than he was used to, almost as if she'd stepped out of a history book.  Green eyes watched him steadily.  Was she old?  Yes.  But old age had not diminished the clarity he saw there.

"Who are you?"  Cecil asked, wincing as he pulled himself upright, grabbing his ribs as the pain shot through them.  "Where am I?  How did I get here?"

The woman held up a hand, as if to steady him from across the room.  "One question at a time.  I will answer if you lay back down."

He paused, suspicious, but he did as she asked.  The woman gave a noise somewhere between a hum and a click, but she seemed to approve.

"Good.  My name is Anna, and this is my home."

Anna gestured around her before returning her attention to him.  "As to how you ended up here... that is quite a story.  And judging by your injuries, you have a tale to tell of your own.  Tell me, who are you?"

Cecil froze for a second.  What name to give?  Would she understand?  Was "Cecil" sufficient, or would scorn or violence follow him here?

"... I.  I'm Cecil," he sputtered out at last.  "Cecil Gonzales."  He would not compromise himself, he had decided.  Whatever this woman's intentions.

Anna cocked her head slightly, thinking a moment.  Then, "A boy's name.  A curious thing."

"It's my name," he protested.  "I chose it, it's mine.  I... I am a boy anyway!"

His words hung in the air, a stillness that made him squirm from the anxiety of it.

"Alright," said Anna after a short while, nodding at him, "Cecil Gonzales, the boy who fell from the sky."

Cecil let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and rubbed his eyes so Anna would not see his tears.  Whether from exhaustion, pain, or relief, he didn't know.  He was even too emotional to ask what she meant by "falling from the sky," but he wasn't sure that it mattered.  All he know that he was here, in a strange place, with a strange woman who nonetheless took care of him and called him a boy.

Anna stood and walked over to him, stopping by the bedside to dunk a cloth in a basin of water.  She washed around his forehead and the side of his head.  It stung, but he did not flinch away.  When she was done, Anna patted his shaved head a few times.

"Sleep, dear, it will do you good.  When you next wake, we will see about getting you to walk."

He was indeed drowsy.  Cecil's eyelids flickered as he began to doze off, comforted by her soft words and her acceptance.  A moment more, and he was asleep.

 

* * *

 

"All right, let us ease you up."

Cecil had his arm around Anna's shoulders.  Her muscles barely tensed, but he felt a slight vibration from her exertion regardless.  With a seemingly practiced ease, she gently pulled Cecil to his feet, being careful not to put too much pressure on his still-aching ribs.  He wavered on his feet, but steadied.  Anna pulled his arm off of her.  Cecil took a step.  Another step.  Though his body ached and strained from the underused muscles, he remained standing.   Anna smiled.

"That's it, there you are.  Let us find you a coat, you look chilled.  Besides, I think it would make you feel more comfortable as you are."

"As I... am?"

"Your chest.  You were wearing a shirt to cover them when I arrived, but I had to cut it to prevent further damage to your ribs."

_My binder!_ Cecil's breath quickened and his eyes darted around the room, looking for it.  Eventually, he spotted it on the top of a chest of drawers.  It was half split up the side and the shoulder.  It did, however, show signs of an attempted repair, the thread winding its way around the desk and to a pin cushion.

"You... you're fixing it?"

"It seemed important," Anna said as she pulled a long, draping coat out of the wardrobe at the end of the room.  "Here.  It belonged to my grandson, and he is much taller than you, but it should do what you want."

She helped him slip into it, carefully maneuvering so he wouldn't have to raise his arms much.  The green and brown coat did show some wear and mud stains, but it was soft and, most importantly, was large enough that he could hide himself in it.  He rolled up the sleeves some and pulled the garment shut.

Anna smiled.  "Good, I'm glad it fits, after a fashion.  We will go outside now, the sea air is good for one's health."

_Sea?_   Cecil wondered as she led him out of the room and down a maze of wood-paneled hallways.  He was still in New Mexico, there wasn't a sea.  He looked at Anna and wondered if maybe she was a little... addled.

Eventually the two came to an elevator.  It was clearly meant for one and half people, he thought, but he squeezed up next to Anna regardless.  The elevator looked ancient, and the creaking and groaning it made as it rose reflected that.  After another elevator ride there was another wood paneled hallway, then a small library with an open entryway.  He could smell salt.  Water.  Trees.  Grass.  Anna lead him outside into the sun.

When the sunlight cleared from his eyes, what he saw took his breath away.  Before him stretched a path of dirt from where he stood to a small grove of towering evergreen trees.  On either side, grass, softly waving in the breeze.  And around him, past the grass?  An endless expanse of water, stretching to the horizon everywhere he could see.  The sound of gentle lapping punctuated the wind that blew that smell of salt around him.  He'd never seen anything like it.  It was a far cry from the scrublands and deserts he'd never left in his life.

Anna glanced at him and smiled.  "Welcome to Myst."

"Like the book..." Cecil breathed, attempting to take it all in.

Anna's smile dropped, but Cecil did not see.  "Yes, the Book.  Where did you find it?"

"Oh!  There was a cave... thing, by the mountain, or was it a volcano?  But it wasn't like any cave I've ever seen, it was like... a crack."

He showed the shape with his hands before continuing, "There were pots, and grass, and water.  And this book was there, I saved it from the rain.  I think it would have been ruined otherwise."

He looked to Anna.  She was staring intently ahead, but she wasn't focused on what was in front of her.  Her brow was furrowed as she drifted in her thoughts.  Cecil leaned away slightly and tensed.  Was that the wrong thing to do?

"It is good that you are the one who found it," said Anna at last, tension draining from her face.  Cecil, too, relaxed.

"Was someone else supposed to-"

His question was interrupted by a scream from the grove of trees, followed by high pitched laughter.  Cecil froze, but Anna laughed.

"Wait a moment, you will see."

Indeed, a second later, two fairly young boys burst from the undergrowth.  The lead boy, terror-stricken, sprinted towards them, slightly-too-big clothes plastered to his skin by water.  The boy behind him was taller.  A mess of unruly, curly hair flew about as he chased the younger.  He was holding... something?  A frog?  Something like that.  He was waving it in the smaller boy's direction.  The soaked boy got to them first and he collapsed at Anna's feet, gasping for air.

"Anna!  He... disgusting... water..." he wailed, tears coming to his eyes.

"I didn't do that part!" the taller boy huffed as he approached, still grasping the slimy creature he had caught.  "He fell in!"

"Achenar, put that creature down!"  Anna scolded softly, pointing to the ground.  "And stop scaring your brother."

Achenar gave a sheepish look and set it down.  It hopped away, indignantly squeaking.

"There.  Now, go inside and get Sirrus something to dry off with."

"Yes, Grandmother," he said.  He paused to look at Cecil as he went inside.  "Who're you?"

"Uh.  I.  I'm Cecil.  Nice to... meet you?"  He didn't know how to interact with children, being the youngest and far removed from his elementary school years.

"I'm Achenar and I'm eight!"  He puffed out his chest proudly.  "I just had my birthday!"

"Achenar..."  Anna started.  The boy glanced at her and apologized before shuffling away.

Cecil watched him go for a moment before kneeling next to the other boy, Sirrus.  He couldn't have been more than five (he guessed, he really didn't know how to estimate these things).  But what he _did_  know was that this kid was having an asthma attack.

"Are you ok?" Cecil asked.  "Here, sit up.  Deeper breaths, slower."

Sirrus gave him a strange look before doing as he said.

"This always hurts," the boy sniffled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

"Yeah, it's gonna.  You have asthma, don't you?"

"What is... as-ma?"

Cecil blinked.  "Uh.  That?  What just happened is an asthma attack.  My brother has it.  Makes your lungs hurt when you do too much."

He saw a spark in Sirrus' eyes as he was talking.  The kid was hanging off his every word.  He glanced up at Anna and she, too, was listening.  Something strange was happening here.  Who hadn't heard of asthma?  And their clothes, and the elevator, and this place.  The wheels in Cecil's head began to turn.  It was almost like... he'd traveled back in time.

"Anna, what... what year is it?" he asked, feeling stupid even as the words left his mouth.  Time travel wasn't possible.

"Seventeen eighty-four,"  piped up Sirrus.  "It's January the second."

It took Cecil a moment to process.  The day was correct, but the year!  1784!  He felt a little faint as the implications hit him.  He really was gone, wasn't he?  He couldn't go home.

He barely heard Anna tell Sirrus to go inside.  He barely heard anything except the rushing in his ears.  She sat on the stone step and pulled Cecil to sit next to her.

"It is a lot to take in, I know."  Anna said, patting his hand.

Cecil began to tear up.  "I want to go home."

"There is no way back.  The Book is gone."

He burst into tears.  It was too much for him.  Anna pulled him close and let him cry on her shoulder, rubbing his back in circles.

"There there... it will be all right.  We will look after you.  You are far too young to be left alone."

Cecil was about to reply when an odd sound pierced the air, almost like a warped whine.  Anna perked up and looked to the direction of the docks he had seen earlier.   She patted his head and smiled.

"My grandson is home."


End file.
